


Bonding over a kick of the Bucket

by Anarchy (Nerdy_JD)



Series: Bonding [3]
Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, please heed the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8780932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdy_JD/pseuds/Anarchy
Summary: It's so tempting - the pain, the promise of comfort. An embrace.





	

It would be a while before the antiseptic smell would be removed from my scar tainted skin. The horrid stench of hospital clung to my clothes the entire ride home and I could hardly wait to throw the garments off. The car was silent, a hanging curtain of dormant conversation sitting between father and son. My arm was freshly bandaged with five stiches decorating pale skin but hidden behind the secure wraps of white.

I stared out the window and as watched house after house passed us by, trying to imagine what their family was like and how they lived their lives. But of course I couldn’t, not really.

We made it home in amicable silence that threatened to tear at the slightest of wrong move. I didn’t care much for it, but I was also deathly curious when it came to my father’s thoughts. I’d done my research about his past, about the suicide of one of his students. It was – still is – a touchy subject for the man and seeing me like that must’ve brought up dozens of unpleasant memories. But I wouldn’t know.

The house was the same cold, barren shelter it had been the previous day, as it was every day, when I walked through the hallways to my room. My father regarded me with little more than a halfway sorrowful look. I guess he wasn’t used to talking to me other than lessons and reprimands, it was almost frustrating to think that I held onto this tiny glimmer of hope that we’d actually have a heart-to-heart.

My room didn’t change, there was nothing significant about it at all. My phone had been confiscated and I could tell by my ajar bathroom door that all the sharp objects would likely have been removed. Smart move. Probably.

The medical cabinet – I’d seen when I checked – had also been empty aside from the odd pain pill or two. It was bugging me more than I’d hoped that he didn’t say a word.

Why the fuck wouldn’t he talk to me? Listen to me? Hell, even if he spoke about how damn awful he felt to see me in hospital, that – _that_ – would have been great. But he’s being a fucking mute. Just my luck, there goes my entry for best dad of the year award.

Gods, this is such absolute bullshit. I sank down to the tiled floor and pulled my legs up to my chest, the position was horribly uncomfortable and impractical since my head was resting on my kneecaps but, I felt small. I felt so damn small. And pathetic. And _powerless_. I could feel the all too familiar sting of tears prickling behind my eyes, and for once, I don’t give a damn.

Sure, my little breakdown in front of the school is gnawing away at me relentlessly, and sure I probably should go down and be a responsible young adult and talk this out. But, dammit, I'm so tired. Who has the energy to explain feelings you hardly understand yourself?

You know, I’d like to think that maybe, _maybe_ , I didn’t screw up at the whole perfect son job. That maybe it was okay to have a few flaws here and there. Maybe I wouldn’t leave his life like so many others he put his trust in…

But… but I _did_ , and – and… I can’t change that! And I can’t fix all the stupid mistakes I’ve already made and I can’t bring all those people back.

My thoughts were beginning to tread on dangerous territory when I finally stand up. Tear tracks had washed over my cheeks and my eyes hurt, my nose was still still running and my face felt numb. My reflection looked broken. Cracked with no hope of repair, torn at the seams without the thought of being threaded back together.

It’s so un-fucking-believably selfish to be thinking like this. To have my thoughts revolving around my own ripped up mind when my father is probably reliving horrifying memories. When Karma is probably worried sick and miserably blaming himself for breaking a promise he couldn’t live up to. It felt like some sick movie where the climax builds up to the protagonist finally attempting the unholy act of suicide after wallowing in self-pity, then at the last minute the dashing saviour swoops in and shows him something to live for. Romance? Friendship? Family? Who can tell?

I would have unravelled my story some more but the ache in my chest just won’t seem to go away. It’s distracting in the worst possible way.

I don’t know what exactly I was hoping for when I walked into the kitchen. Maybe the picture of a dishevelled man, wracking his brain for ways to help his child while sipping on mouth of a bottle. Or, maybe some worried rapid pacing? Just for the sake of – I don’t know – caring? But no, I was greeting by an empty house with a note saying he’d gone out to get dinner and he should be back in an hour.

I laughed, holy shit, why on earth did I expect any different from a man that treats his only son like just another student. Oh gods, this is funny. Not that he left the house, leaving his mentally unstable child alone, but the fact that I actually thought he wouldn’t.

I was still in my school uniform when I stepped outside into the cool air. Afternoon was slowly giving way to evening and the sun would sure look beautiful if I sat at the right spot.

I felt the few coins of change in my pocket and amble along until I find a payphone. After a few rings, they pick up.

_Hello?_

“Hi Karma.”

_Oh my god, Gakushuu, you’re okay. You_ are _okay, right?_

He sounds relived. “Yeah. I'm fine.” I sound so meek. “Listen, I was wondering if you could meet me over that bridge we always hang out at.”

_Yeah, definitely. And your dad’s okay with letting you go?_

“Yes,” it stings on my tongue. “He says I need to speak more, who better than with you.”

_Okay… what time?_

I check my watch and its barely past five. “Meet me there at six.”

I hear him hum, the sound comes through gruffly and guttural. “And, Karma? I… thanks for getting me out of that situation, I really appreciate it.” It’s not what I want to say and the words feel like lies.

_Sure, of course, anytime._

We hung up a few silent moments after that. The way to the lantern lit bridge made cheerful memories bubble up to the surface. I have half a mind to just forget about it and head back, the joyful thoughts feeling painful and unfitting in my chest. Which, for some inconceivable reason, will not stop paining.

The subdued colours of houselights overpowered by the soon-to-be magnificent sunset calmed my mind. It felt almost surreal, walking past all these people I’d likely never see again, only passing strangers who wouldn’t spare me a second glance. I felt like I was walking through someone else’s dream. Only, that dream was slowly but surely snipping away at what rational thinking I had left.

I make it to the bridge and the time read half past five. I’m almost a little shocked that it took me that long. The water was dark and murky, it looked scary under the contrasting cheerfulness of the lamps illuminating the darkening pathway. The bridge looked empty and cool and I couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt for it. The railing was damp as my fingers dotted across the splintering wood and the metal bars under it. I felt a shiver trail down my spine.

Was this the build-up? I couldn’t tell, not when I hadn’t even made up my mind.

_Come a little closer._

I bit my lip when I leaned against the railing and stared at the shimmering water. It looked so beautiful.

_I’ll give you a hug and make all the pain go away._

My hand swept over the scars on my wrist and I cringed. Gods, how did I fall so far?

_Would you like that?_

My head fell forward and I clenched my teeth at the utter emptiness consuming me.

_I’ll even sing for you._

Dammit…

_Just come over here. To me. Let me hug you._

I felt like I was floating when my legs swung over the railing and I teetered over the edge, my breathing was surprisingly even and I felt so light. Like a feather. I didn’t care, I couldn’t feel and everything felt so perfect. I stuck my foot out and watched it hang over the open water.

“You’re really going to do this?” I asked myself in such a quiet voice.

I let go and plummeted down, the water splashed loudly over my ears and soon my vision was shrouded in near-darkness. I had to breathe, I will hurt, but I had to breathe.

The water burnt my lungs and throat and I flailed, choking until all I could see were shudders of half processed images. My hands instinctively reached for my throat and the touch calmed my slightly. The water was so cold, so restricting and so… _everywhere_.

My body pained as it fought back against my will, my mind fuzzed from lack of oxygen but I couldn’t help but feel a tinkling of joy flutter through me. I thought it was ridiculous – because it was – but it felt right. Was I finally doing something good? I didn’t even think of it as ending my own life, just disappearing. Disappearing didn’t seem so bad. There’s so much things I wanted to say, my life felt unfinished, it felt half full. But the glass had cracked and now, the liquid was slowly seeping out, never having the chance to be full.

I couldn’t feel the water, I couldn’t feel my body or think coherently.

_You did it…_

A smile.

_Are you happy now?_

A promised embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I certainly hope everyone's doing well and excited for Karushuu week and Christmas! I just got my report card and I did well - happy the stress is over.
> 
> Sorry for the babbling feel of the story. I was really in a horrible mood when I wrote it but I am planning to continue this, as a completely different series. But right now I'm focusing on my Karushuu week entries.
> 
> Have a wonderful day/week/month guys! 2016's almost over!


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